


burning up

by ninemoons42



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Summer, Telepathy, heat wave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is stuck at home during a heat wave, but he's neither bored nor dying from the heat nor alone for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burning up

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Afrocurl for the encouragement and the quick beta.

_We’re not at home, we can’t think here, please leave a message, this was Irene and Raven,_ and the cheerful message loops around twice more in Charles’s ear before he can make himself move again and put the phone down.

Theirs is not the first number he’s called today, but this is the first time he’s wanted to sigh. 

Emma’s voicemail says, _Not here. Somewhere in the Alps. We want winter, so that’s where we’ll be. Leave a message._

 _Anywhere but here,_ he thinks miserably - but the piles of books and journals and manuscripts on his oversized boat of a desk are keeping him here at home, worse than a whole handful of balls and chains when everyone else has been sensible and gotten out of town ahead of the long holiday weekend.

The heat presses down on every inch of his skin, searing him, leaving him breathless and immobile, pinned to his own couch. The very act of getting up for another drink of water drains him even as he swallows thirstily, even as the last few drops trickle out past the corners of his mouth and leave fleeting impressions of coolness behind on his overheated skin.

He hits another speed-dial number.

_Erik Lehnsherr. In transit. Message at the tone._

_I wish I could have gone with you,_ Charles thinks but doesn’t say out loud. True, the weather’s only going to be so much more sizzling the closer he gets to the beach, is only going to be as oppressively fair and blue-skied, but at least Erik stands a better chance of catching some semblance of a breeze out on the water.

Charles gropes around for the small ice chest he’d parked next to his coffee table, and hisses softly in triumph when he finds one more popsicle. It’s a job having to get up and peel the persnickety foil off, though, and he swears he can feel every bead of sweat that rolls down from the back of his neck and into the soaked collar of one of his thinnest undershirts. Still, he manages it, and he flops back down into the cushions and sucks up the grape-flavored ice with everything he’s got.

At least it’s quiet inside his head, except for the drone of _too hot too hot too hot_ that’s been his constant companion since this week began.

Charles runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and swears softly in his head even as he can feel sleep overtaking him again. Sleep, of all the things, in this furnace - on one hand, it’s still an escape; on the other, he hates waking up, especially waking up by himself.

Something goes _click_ , too close, and he half-starts up - only to see a familiar face.

Oh, and a familiar body, familiar skin stretched over familiar muscles.

 _If you’re going to strip off,_ Charles says as he watches Erik undress next to the door, _can you do it where I can reach out and touch you? Also, what are you doing here? You said you were going to the beach with the others._

“Woke up too early this morning and didn’t feel like driving,” Erik says when he’s down to just his boxer-briefs. He crosses the mess of Charles’s living space and sits down next to the cooler. He’s warm and sweaty and freckling up from the heat, though he seems to hide them better than Charles can. “So I told them to go on without me.”

 _Okay,_ Charles thinks. _So you’re stuck here with me._

“I guess I am. What hardship,” Erik chuckles. 

_Kiss me?_

“Mixed messages, Charles, you’re practically blasting _too hot too hot too hot_ at me.”

_It’s the truth._

“Yes. Well. Also, are you going to be non-verbal today?”

_Do you mind?_

“It’s fine,” Erik says as he gets up. 

_Okay,_ Charles thinks, and then he’s torn between smiling and cringing because Erik is nosing at his jaw, at his cheekbone, and he’s still sweating, helpless against the heat. He does half-pull away, hands closing around Erik’s wrists as he lets out a very, very soft and careful breath.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Erik mumbles against his temple, radiating _love you_ and _damn weather_ and _sweet_.

_Please don’t stop._

What that gets him is Erik pushing him up against the armrest so he’s propped up in the corner of the couch, mostly sitting up. Erik’s sweating, small beads all over his shoulders, and Charles sweeps them away as he slides his fingers up and into the back of Erik’s head, coaxing him closer for a kiss.

Erik’s mouth is hot and eager against his, and Charles can’t help but groan and push closer, burning up and he can’t get enough. Not of this. Not of _Erik_ , because he’s here and because he feels so good. 

_Too hot don’t care want you,_ Erik sends.

 _Now who’s being non-verbal - talk to me,_ Charles thinks.

_Burning up._

_I know._ Charles sits up, then, and kisses Erik again, at the same time pushing at him until it’s Erik lying down on the couch.

Charles ignores the heat, ignores the sweat, just focuses on Erik’s hands winding into his and Erik groaning softly as they exchange long languid kisses. A nip here, a lingering lick there.

“You feel so good,” Erik murmurs as they catch their breath.

_Even when we can’t breathe for the weather you still think that._

“Because it’s still true.”

 _Mmm,_ Charles thinks, and he dips his hand lower, stroking over Erik’s chest and torso. He pinches Erik in the ribs, grins when that makes Erik huff out an exasperated laugh. 

Down, and into Erik’s boxer-briefs. Hot blood pulsing. Erik is hard and huge. Charles grips the length of him carefully, pulls, once, twice, and Erik gasps and closes his eyes and says his name.

The sound of him, broken and needing, is the lash to Charles’s back - and he thinks, _Brace yourself,_ before he pushes Erik’s underwear down and completely out of the way, before he takes Erik’s cock in both hands and starts jacking him off, fast and hard.

“Yes yes yes,” Erik groans, arching up into it, desperate. _Harder more please...._

Charles leans over, takes the very tip of Erik’s cock in his mouth, and _sucks_.

His reward is Erik coming on his face and on his hands, sticky and hot and good.

“And you?” Erik asks after he catches his breath.

Charles smiles. _Have me._

The way Erik clambers up and leans into him makes him catch his breath, and Charles closes his eyes, and it’s still too hot but now it’s too good, and he gives himself over to the demands of Erik’s hands and mouth.


End file.
